Eeyaugh the Marauder
by R.T.D.W
Summary: A very non-traditional Or so I feel Ork fic. Don't judge me to harshly on my ork speech since I haven't had much practice. It's gonna start it with a short chapter here, but then it'll get going Slowly .


"Fire, fire!" the skinny guardsman yelled as he fired his las-gun from the hip at the incoming ork, a towering nob whose head scraped the top of the musty old hallway. The other two soldiers with him, who were caked in blood, grime, and dirt as well, worked together to try and fix the jam in their heavy stubber.

"No, frag it, you useless fragger," one of them, the fat one, swore as the other one accidentally pushed the jammed shell further into the breech with a heavily scarred hand. By now the nob was almost halfway down the hall, only twenty meters away, his "'uge choppa" raised in the air, the las-gun shots next to useless. "There we go!"

There was a roar as the stubber fired in the close confines of the hallway, echoing off the plascrete. Merely half a second later a row of holes stitched their way across the nob's gut, spilling his guts out in a trail behind him. However, he still kept coming.

"Holy emperor," the skinny guardsman screamed as he pulled the power pack out from his weapon.

When the nob was five meters away, almost to the three frightened guardsmen, the wall next to him exploded outward, shoving the nob through a rusted door and crushing his head on a piece of metal re bar.

In the Nob's place was a huge reptilian looking creature, its bared mouth full of thumb sized teeth.

Fra- frag, run for it!" the skinny guardsman yelled as he turned and ran down the hallway, arms pumping. The other two followed him and the creature forced its way down the hall after them.

Of course the creature would die, as would the rest of the orks in the hive, and their bodies would be burned. Except for that of the lone nob that lay rotting in a damp room, right next to a patch of open soil.

The spot was secluded, the only open spot of dirt for hundreds of yards. On two sides there were walls, and on the other two were piles of debris that stretched up to stop nearly a foot from the roof.

Everything was quiet except for a slight and occasional padding noise on the other side of the debris, but soon the dirt began to move around and stir. A moment later a stubby green hand poked through the dirt a grasped about before gripping a metal bar that was sticking out of the pile. Then a second hand came out and grabbed the bar, and soon after the rest of the arms came out and soon a bald green head emerged, bits and pieces of dirt falling off.

"Wot the 'ell is this?" the creature said as it looked around. After a moment it pulled itself the rest of the way out of the dirt and stood, around three and a half feet tall. Immediately it, his, mind began to look at the junk in the piles, figuring out what could be done with it.

In the small gap at the top of the piles a small green head with a disproportionate nose and ears peered into the small space at the alien creature with the same skin color. Before the little creature, the grot, could duck back out of sight of the bigger creature it was caught in a calculating but slightly dull gaze.

"'Ey, you, grot. Git me de 'ell out of 'ere," the bigger creature, the ork, ordered. "Else I'm gonna rip you apart."

The grot made a small squeaking noise and then began moving debris around so as to make a space for the ork to crawl out of.

Soon the ork had made his way through and found himself in a large, low, and open room. Various creatures, Squigs, were about and massive amounts of fungi were growing and spreading across the damp and dirty plascrete walls of the space. Two other grots were standing about and looking apprehensively at the ork. Well, as apprehensively as was possible.

In some other dark corners and behind some of the squigs were even smaller, runtier creatures, the snotlings. Once the ork had taken this all in he turned to the first grot that he had encountered and growled, "Ah'll right, you pue-oony grot, tell me... Ahre there any 'uther orks ah'round here?" Already a plan was forming in his mind.

As the grot squeaked out a stuttering reply the ork went and began to dig through a collection of things that had been piled to one side. "No there ain't, you 'ar the own-ee wun."

The ork pulled a rusty old melta bomb from the depths of the pile. "Good, good. Now, git back in dere an blow da hole ah came from so dat no udder ork kin come out."

"Wha- What?" stuttered the grot.

"You 'eard me you sloimy piece of crap!" the ork yelled as it hurled the melta bomb at the quivering gretchin, who screeched and scampered off with the explosive pack in tow.

After venting at another nearby grot the ork turned his attention back to the mess of junk. A metal bar? No good, it got tossed off to the side. A defunct las-gun that had been chopped in half? Uselessness aside it was a "Pu'nee liddle 'umie weapon," and got tossed at a snotling across the room. There was something good! A heavy stubber with a scarred hand attached to it lay underneath a thick pipe that was covered in yellow grime.

The ork pulled it out and shook it at a the grots and snotlings gathered about. "Do you see 'dis here shooter? 'Dis here is a proper shooter, 'dis is da sort of thing 'dat we need more of!" He fired it into the roof for a few seconds for effect. "Dat's what I'm talkin' about!"

The grots and snotlings were quiet for a few seconds. "So wha' do ya want us to do about it?"

"What do ah want you to do about it?!" the ork spluttered, foul smelling spittle flying from his mouth as he did so. "I want you to git me more!" This demand was punctuated by a muffled 'whump' and a 'whoosh' of air from where the ork had emerged only moments ago. "Or else youz are gonna end up like dat stupid grot!"

The two remaining grots scampered off to see what they could find, and as they left the ork laughed to himself as he grabbed a fat eatin' squig. No other stupid orks would be coming to bother him, either.


End file.
